


things fall apart

by neversaydie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes's Backpack of Sadness, Bucky's Notebooks, Captain America: Civil War Trailer, Civil War (Marvel), Dementia, Drug Withdrawal, Fear, M/M, Memories, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve holds out his hand slowly, a stand down meant for him and not the men trying to put him in a cage. He could slaughter them all, he could use his fists and teeth and tear them apart. He wouldn't even have to pick up the gun again. He could neutralise the threat and start running again until he found somewhere, some imaginary place where he could be left alone. Where nobody would hurt him or use him, where he could just be. </p>
<p>But he won't. He is not the Asset and Steve is telling him to stand down while his heart beats <i>bucky bucky bucky</i> and gives away the terror not showing on his face. The place he wants to run to doesn't exist, because even he's not too fucked up to know he can't outrun his own mind. He is not the Asset. He doesn't hurt people anymore, he promised himself that nobody would make him do that again. He promised Steve and he can hear his heartbeat and he's scared. </p>
<p>He doesn't fight. He endures. </p>
<p>[Bucky gets shoved to the ground and arrested and nobody is okay with that]</p>
            </blockquote>





	things fall apart

**Author's Note:**

> Because we all saw the new TV spot and none of us are okay, least of all Bucky.

The Asset endures.

Freezing temperatures and extreme heat, starvation and beatings and electric shocks, isolation and sensory overload. The Asset is a still lake in the middle of everything, a shard of ice that does not melt or crack under pressure or abuse. The Asset is the centre of their arsenal and the centre must hold or all things fall apart. The Asset does not have to capacity to consider falling apart, the possibility can't even enter its head because that got burned out somewhere along the line. Failure is not an option.

But he isn't the Asset, not now. He's off the leash and sort of… nothing. It's odd to be a newborn.

He doesn't exactly keep the memories a lot of the time. It's more like he's a conduit, channelling the life of a dead man. He started writing them down a while back, trying to hold onto something as time slips away from him and he loses track of days, weeks, maybe months. He comes back to himself in the dark, in another place, the frightening moment of disorientation only slightly soothed by reading back what he's done and being able to say yes, he was present and he was in control. He was and he still is, whatever he _is_. He is not the Asset, that's all he knows for certain.

The Asset did feel fear, an instinctive and useful response that they never tried to burn out of it because its complete obedience superseded self-preservation every time. But it never felt fear like he does now, the paralysing, overwhelming wave of terror at not knowing where or what he is that hits him when he realises he's forgotten what came before. Things that should be innocuous sometimes inspire the panic (the smell of pennies, the sound of an automatic door opening, the taste of meat), where he can't breathe or see and is convinced that this is it, he endured the drug withdrawal and the memories scraping up like skin-secreted razor wire but this will be what kills him, and not remembering _why_ he's afraid of them adds anger as well as fear to his repertoire.

When he comes to and finds that all he's written down is _Steve_ , it's a comfort. Because Steve means good, that's etched into his bones and dug as deep as the anchors for his arm. Steve means safety and wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't use him and make him do the things in his nightmares that he wakes from shouting and retching and clawing at his metal arm to try and _get it off_ _three two five five seven_

_Steve_.

Steve whose heart beat _bucky bucky bucky_ without the murmur it remembered on the bank of the Potomac. It listened to make sure the man was still breathing, paused confused when the wheeze and stutter was gone, unable to explain to itself why it was expecting them. It was barely a _self_ then, but knew how to maintain its body and get through the looming drug withdrawal in a way that suggested it had done it before in a time it didn't remember. So it walked away, left _Steve_ where people could take care of him because that was very important for reasons it didn't remember. He's not sure when _it_ became _he_ but it did happen, once the sweating and shaking and puking and hallucinating was over. He is not the Asset, that's all he knows.

He knew how to endure, so he endured. He waited. And then the memories came, and there was no more waiting. He knew they would come for him, that he had to run. He knew Steve would look for him and put himself in danger, and the programming of _protect Steve Rogers_ went a lot deeper than anything they'd scarred into the Asset. So he started running and never stopped, and the son of a bitch came after him anyway, always so eager to throw himself on a grenade.   

He finally stops running on an underground road, seventeen automatic weapons pointed at him and Steve's heart hammering _bucky bucky bucky_ loud enough for him to hear over his own adrenaline pulse. The men are mostly masked, booted and armed to the teeth, and he doesn't ever wish for the muzzle but this is the closest he's come. He could be the Asset again, kill fluidly and escape capture without compromising the man he's trying to grow out of whatever kernel of Barnes is left in him. If only he could hide himself like that, split into two and discard the part he doesn't want when he's finished with it. If only he could carve the Asset out that easily.

Steve holds out his hand slowly, a _stand down_ meant for him and not the men trying to put him in a cage. He could slaughter them all, he could use his fists and teeth and tear them apart. He wouldn't even have to pick up the gun again. He could neutralise the threat and start running again until he found somewhere, some imaginary place where he could be left alone. Where nobody would hurt him or use him, where he could just _be_.

But he won't. He is not the Asset and Steve is telling him to stand down while his heart beats _bucky bucky bucky_ and gives away the terror not showing on his face. The place he wants to run to doesn't exist, because even he's not too fucked up to know he can't outrun his own mind. He is not the Asset. He doesn't hurt people anymore, he promised himself that nobody would make him do that again. He promised Steve and he can hear his heartbeat and he's scared.

He doesn't fight. He endures.

Words are exchanged, he doesn't hear them. He doesn't care what anyone has to say when he can hear Steve's heartbeat rabbiting like an echo of his own fear. He doesn't give a shit about what wider context he's been dragged into despite just wanting to be left alone, he only cares that Steve sounds just as terrified as he is and that's not right. He looks the men pointing guns in the eye and doesn't move. Steve negotiates them taking him, and he doesn't fight the tense decision because he doesn't do that now. He is not the Asset. He can do this.

It takes everything in him to just endure when they move in on him, when they come up behind him and all his instincts tell him to attack. He doesn't resist when they push him to his knees, kick out his support and shove him face down on the ground with more force than they need. He doesn't let his fear show when they wrench his arms back and cuff him, the sudden helplessness leaving him dizzy with vertigo and memory and a taste in his mouth. If he forgets now then he'll wake up like this, and then he won't be able to endure and he'll kill them all on instinct, so he grits his teeth and fights with himself to not drift out. He's protecting Steve, he can take this for him.

He has one of those moments of blinding panic when they unclip his backpack, kicks out instinctively when they cut through the straps to remove it because they're too afraid to un-cuff so he can take it off normally. The panic is a beast with claws, raking through his chest before he can force it back into its box. He won't let them take his mind again. He's already forgotten half the things he's scribbled down in that bag and he can't lose them again. He can't lose his sisters and his comrades and Steve. He can't let them steal them, he _can't_ , he won't—

He catches one in the leg and they go down with a snap of bone that's sickeningly satisfying to the part of him that misses violence. Then there are bodies on him pinning him to the cold cement even though he's already gone still. Steve is yelling something and everyone is yelling and the chaos is too loud and the press of bodies is too close and too heavy and it hurts, everything hurts. He doesn't move again, bites the inside of his cheek and promises himself that Steve will stop them from taking his mind.

He protects Steve and Steve protects back, that's something he knows. He is not the Asset, he knows that too. His number of facts is up to two now, and that knowledge lets him remain silent and stoic as they haul him to his feet with bruising grips and disregard that he's written about before and nearly make him panic again. Maybe this will be a memory too. Maybe he'll be able to keep this in his head, instead of it slipping out onto paper and disappearing into dust. He's not sure he wants that. He doesn't look at Steve as they manhandle him into the back of a van, because he doesn't want to remember the way his heart is back to its _bucky bucky bucky_ rhythm of fear.

They were in love, once. He remembered low light and muffled breaths and touches nothing like the ones he remembers later, when everything was cold. He remembered the sound of a fragile heartbeat and the feel of small bones under his hands and the way he thought he would burst when Steve smiled at him. The memories don't stay in his head, but he rereads them enough that he thinks they almost could. They were in love, once, and he knows for certain that whoever he is now, whatever he does or doesn't or can't feel, he's not going to let anything happen to Steve. He can take this. He can hate it and be afraid and panic, but he can do it. Even when they drive away and he can't hear _bucky bucky bucky_ anymore.

He is not the Asset, but he endures.


End file.
